


Night In His Veins

by genee



Category: Actor RPF, Kane (Band), Music RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's one thing to know that Jensen likes dick, yeah, but it's another thing to see it right up close, to hear it, low and breathy and up against the wall, and now that he's seen Jensen give it up so sweet, all Chris wants is more. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night In His Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to nu_breed and without_me for helping me make this a whole lot better. Title nabbed from The Pretenders.  
> ETA, 2010: I remember worrying when I posted this that the title made the story seem like it might be vampire fic, which it's not, but once I had the title in my head I couldn't get it out. It would be cool if it was a vampire story, though.

It was one thing to know Jensen liked dick, he'd known that forever, or almost forever, anyway. He remembers being at a party somewhere, stupid music and Steve's voice all serious, telling him to quit being such a fuckin' dick tease, because Jensen was their friend, asshole, and didn't need that shit from him, and it had taken Chris a minute to catch up. A minute, maybe two, and then Steve cracked himself up saying _dick tease_ under his breath again, and since Steve's laugh was contagious when he got going like that, the fucker, Chris laughed until he got the fuckin' hiccups, bad, and Steve wandered off in search of a cure, and that was that.

But that was years ago, and Chris doesn't really think about it anymore. He isn't thinking about anything but how rare it is that they're all in the same city these days, and what a damn good night it's been, easy, so fuckin' easy, Steve up on stage already and Jason not far behind him, smoky Nashville bar and Chris and Jen in a dark corner, Chris's arm slung across the back of Jensen's chair, his fingers curled into Jensen's shirt, both of them buzzed and sweaty and Jensen leaning into Chris's touch, empties scattered over the table in front of them. Chris can feel Jensen's voice, low thrum through his fingers, sexy in a way it shouldn't be, not for Chris, and then Jensen licks his lips and smiles, flash of pink tongue and white teeth and Chris swallows hard, watches Jensen swallow, too.

He twists his fingers in the soft cotton of Jensen's shirt and Jensen tilts his head, stubble scratching across Chris's knuckles before Jensen grins, says, "You flirtin' with me now?"

Chris bites the inside of his lip and pulls his arm away real slow, fingers dragging over the back of Jensen's neck, slick and hot. Jensen shivers, and Chris thinks about not letting go.

He must have, though, because if he hadn't, he wouldn't be seeing this right here, Jensen pressed up against the wall behind the bar, his head thrown back against the brick and his jeans tugged down low, some guy blowing him, touching him, holding him there with one hand splayed across his belly, so easy, Jensen moaning low and sweet. Chris had only come out here to piss, hadn't meant to see this, hadn't wanted to, but it's goddamn _hot_ , seeing Jensen like this, and he knows he should slip back inside before Jensen opens his eyes and turns his head and _sees him there_ , sees him watching. He should, but the guy on his knees shifts a little and Chris sees how hard he is, his dick jutting out of his open fly, one hand stroking himself.

Chris feels his own dick pressed against the inside of his jeans, feels the breath catch in his throat when Jensen gasps, his hips stuttering, and the guy on his knees backs off and wraps his hand around Jensen's dick instead, jacks him hard, one stroke, two, skin on skin and Jensen's palm smacking against the bricks behind him, breath hissing out and sounding so much like Chris's name he almost steps out of the shadows, almost, almost, almost.

Back inside it's dark and loud and Chris's hands feel empty despite the bottle he's holding, warm glass and rounded edges and Chris knows he's not gay, never has been, but _fuck_ , it's _Jensen_ , and Chris just _wants_. Wants to be the one on his knees, wants to feel Jensen's dick in his hand, in his mouth, wants it so much he's dizzy with it, thick smoke and warm bodies and he wakes up in someone else's bed, smooth legs all tangled up with his, spill of bright blonde curls and soft curves and for the first time in his life it's not even close to what he wants.

He wants strong hands on his face, thick fingers in his hair, he wants stubble and muscles and a hard cock in his mouth, he wants to feel it, wants to fucking taste it, and it's one thing to know that Jensen likes dick, yeah, but it's another thing to see it right up close, to hear it, low and breathy and up against the wall, and now that he's seen Jensen give it up so sweet, all Chris wants is _more_.

\- - - -

Matt scowls, nudges Chris's bare foot off Jensen's coffee table with one of his own, and when Chris looks up Jason's crossing his arms, bicep's bulging out of his shirt sleeves, fuckin' gym rat that he is, and Chris almost wishes he weren't so fuckin' high, wishes Jensen's fingers didn't feel so good in his hair, because Matt and Jason lookin' at him like that can't be good. There's a reason he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be sprawled across Jensen's lap and passing a joint back and forth, breathing when he breathes, smiling when he smiles, but right now he has no idea what it is.

It's been six weeks since that night, six weeks since the last time he's seen Jensen, six weeks and everything is different now, different and so much the same.

Jason says, "Kane, I will fuck you up," and Matt nods, and Chris flips them both off, tries hard not to rub his cheek against Jensen's jeans. Jason wanders into the kitchen, finally, and Chris hopes he doesn't wander back without beer.

Last night Chris kissed Jensen not three feet from where Jason's standing right now, leaned in close and slid his palm over Jensen's throat, over his jaw, leaned in and kissed him and Jensen had made this sound, this fuckin' hot as fuck _sound_ , and pressed Chris back against the kitchen counter. Jensen's mouth was hot and wet and his hand on the back of Chris's neck was huge, his thumb in the hollow behind Chris's ear, rough and calloused and Chris could feel Jensen's dick against his hip, could feel his Adam's apple move in his throat when he swallowed. It was the hottest fuckin' thing since Lee Ann Cinders had let him touch her titties in the sixth grade, and Chris hoped to Christ he wasn't gonna come in his pants like he had then, because maybe Lee Ann thought it was cool but Jensen would never fuckin' let him live it down.

Jason comes back from the kitchen with four longnecks hanging from his fingers and a bag of chips caught between his teeth, and Chris asks him if there's ice cream in Jensen's freezer even though he knows there's not. Matt scowls some more and Jensen stretches a hand in his direction, the hand with the joint in it not the hand in Chris's hair, and Chris feels the muscles in Jensen's thighs flex when he moves, thinks about how much he wants to feel those muscles shake under his palms, sweaty and naked and as much of Jensen's cock in his mouth as he can handle.

Chris blinks, runs the back of his hand across his mouth and Jensen just smiles real slow, makes Chris smile real slow, too.

"Fuckers," Matt says, taking the joint from Jensen's fingers, and Jason rolls his eyes and reaches for his guitar, settles into the armchair across from them.

It's been raining since they got here, cold and gray and they're only here for one more night, that's it, and this really wasn't what Chris had in mind, but whatever. Jensen had cranked the heat this morning and pulled the blinds, and it feels like summer inside now, slow buzz in his head and yellow light when he closes his eyes. He cups a hand over his dick, soft rub of denim, low murmur of Jensen's voice close enough to feel.

"What is this?" Jensen asks him before they leave, Matt and Jason loading their bags into the car. Jensen's fingers are twisted in Chris's hair again, and Chris has beard burn way down low on his throat.

Chris shakes his head, but Jensen's hand doesn't give and all he can do is stand there, try to keep his hips from bucking into Jensen's. "I don't know," Chris says, and it's really fuckin' true.

"You figure it out, you let me know."

"I know I want this," Chris says, and his voice sounds all rough and open, sexy even to his own ears. All they've done is kiss, really, but Chris is fuckin' wound up from it, from the feel of Jensen's mouth, Jensen's hands, Jensen's body pressed against his, all broad shoulders and heavy muscles and skin so soft Chris couldn't make himself stop touching it once he'd started. "I know I'm not waitin' another six weeks to see you again."

"Yeah, okay," Jensen says, pulling Chris close and kissing him breathless. "Maybe leave the chaperones at home when you come back?"

\- - - -

"Steve's gonna flip his shit," Jason says later, Chris emptying his pockets at the security checkpoint, keys and loose change and a guitar pick with teeth marks in it he's pretty sure aren't his. "Dude, you know he will."

"Yeah, well, Steve ain't here," Chris says, like that makes a difference. "And if he were, he'd be cool."

Jason laughs at that, and Matt trips over his own feet trying to keep a straight face and pull off his boots at the same time. There's a line building up behind them and Chris walks through the X-ray thing, wonders if he looks any different on the inside. He wonders if Steve will see it right away, if Jensen will have called him already and what he'll have said.

Not that it matters, because Steve? Fuck, Steve will not be cool. Steve will throw down if he thinks for even a second that Chris is dicking around with Jensen, and he won't care at all that technically, Chris _isn't_. Not yet, anyway.

\- - - -

Steve splits his knuckles on Chris's lip in the airport parking lot, and by the time they're talkin' about it Chris's left eye is swelling up real good, ice wrapped up in a towel and melting on his kitchen table, peroxide by the sink, half a bottle of Jack between them.

"We've been through this," Steve says, and Chris shrugs, wipes his hands on his jeans. "You're an asshole, remember? He's our friend."

Anyone but Steve would be laid the fuck out, and for anyone but Jensen it'd be too much fuckin' trouble.

"You don't like dick," Steve says, finally, and Chris grins, licks at his bloody lip. "You don't!"

"You said _dick_ ," Chris says, and Steve grins back at him, lights himself a smoke off the one in the ashtray. "Your hand's still bleedin', man. You should have that looked at."

Steve rests his hand in Chris's open palm, and his skin is cool and damp, a little sticky. "I'm havin' it looked at right now."

"Well," Chris says, slow and careful, pulling Steve's hand into the light to get a better look. "I think you'll live, son."

Steve whaps Chris's ear for good measure and reaches for the Jack, tells him he's a lucky son of a bitch.

"Boy didn't even put out," Chris says, and Steve laughs so hard Chris's traitor cat joins in, meowing her fool head off until Chris opens the front door and kicks them both the hell out.

\- - - -

Blowing Jensen is everything he thought it would be, Chris on his knees and Jensen's cock in his mouth, thick vein pulsing against his tongue and Jensen's fingers in his hair, on his jaw, on his throat. Jensen's come in his mouth, tingly and alive, the way he smells, the way he sounds, fuck, it's almost not human, how fuckin' pretty Jensen is, how turned on Chris is just from this, Jensen's dick in his mouth and Jensen's hips in his hands, his skin buzzing everywhere they touch.

If he were ten years younger, he might've come just from that. He knows for a fuckin' fact he would have come in the shower after, Jensen's body hot and soapy and pressed up against him, and Jensen, the fuckin' tease, murmuring in his ear, _wait, wait, wait_. But now that he's stretched out on Jensen's bed, Jensen's warm breath on his skin and Jensen's fingers slicking into him like he's got all the time in the world, it's way too fuckin' good to last.

Chris tugs Jensen up and kisses him until Jensen's making those noises again, all throaty and raw and when Chris pulls away Jensen's lips are swollen and his dick is sliding against Chris's, blood-dark and leaking. "Okay?" Jensen asks, and Chris reaches for a condom, opens it with his teeth.

Jensen slides his hands up the back of Chris's thighs, and Chris tries to keep his eyes open, tries to stay focused on Jensen's voice, Jensen's dick pressing in and in and impossibly in, so slow Chris can't even breathe, and then Jensen's belly sliding over his dick, heat and sparks and Jensen's hand on his face, Jensen's forehead pressed to his.

"Chris," he whispers, and Chris swallows hard, feels every muscle in his body, every muscle in Jensen's body, too. "Chris, fuck," and Chris opens his eyes, threads his fingers through Jensen's hair.

Jensen kisses him forever, hips rocking easy, so easy, and then he twists Chris over on his side, big hands on his chest, on his hips, on his belly, Jensen's breath and Jensen's mouth and Jensen's big fuckin' dick in his ass, and Chris thought he knew what this would be like, but it isn't, it isn't like that at all.

Jensen's everywhere, above him, inside him, biting at his jaw and dripping sweat on his shoulder and spreading wildfire through his belly, and Chris comes so quick he'd be embarrassed if it didn't feel so goddamn good, if it didn't keep feeling so goddamn good when Jensen rolls him onto his back again, his knees pressed against his ribs and Jensen so deep inside him Chris can taste his heartbeat.

It's nothing like what he thought it'd be, Jensen's eyes bright and open and burning into his, more beautiful when he comes than Chris has ever seen him.

\- - - -

"You shoulda told me," Jensen says, and Chris makes a sound that means whatever Jensen wants it to mean, traces a path through Jensen's freckles with his tongue. He should've told Jensen a lot of things, and none of them matter as much as whatever happens next.

Chris slides his hands over Jensen's ribs, silky skin and lean muscles and Chris breathes deep, closes his eyes and doesn't open them again until Jensen runs his fingers across Chris's bottom lip. Jensen's pupils are blown and he tastes like pot and sex and lemonade, his fingertips ghosting across the faded bruise under Chris's eye, his tongue caught between his lips.

"Steve do this for me?" Jensen asks, and Chris grins, shakes his head.

It's raining again, it's always raining here, wet blur on the windows and outside, everything is green. "Not exactly," Chris says, thumbing the hollow at the base of Jensen's throat. Jensen raises an eyebrow and twists damp fingers in Chris's hair, and Chris wonders if there's ice cream in the freezer already, if there will be soon, if Steve warned Jensen, too.

"He did it for me," Chris says, and Jensen smiles that fuckin' killer smile, and Chris laughs out loud, thinks it's a damn good thing so many of their friends are willing to kick his ass if he fucks this up.  
   
   


\-- END --


End file.
